The Girl He Left Behind
by RavingBabbit
Summary: AU: One often meets destiny on the road taken to avoid it. What if Kyouko had chickened out on Shou?
1. The Path Not Taken

A/N: I do not own Skip Beat!

[1]: Ryokan = Japanese inn

[2]: Okami-sama and Oyaji-dono: Landlady and Boss

[3]: Waka-okami: Young landlady in training

* * *

The Girl He Left Behind

"Kyouko-chan, will you run away with me to Tokyo?"

One of the things she loved most about Shoutaro-kun was that he said what she was most dying to hear. In that simple question, Kyouko justified all her heartbreak and the subsequent years of striving and serving in the Fuwa Ryokan [1].

'How can my heart beat deeply this early in my life time?' Kyouko wondered at the soothing power of Shoutaro's mere presence. She savored the elation, and then with tears in her eyes, she released it so her heart would not fly too freely.

"Shou—" She stopped herself from enunciating the latter half of his name.

"I have been at your side for many years, but I have obligations to Okami-sama and Oyaji-dono[2]. I cannot repay their generosity by abandoning my duties." I love you.

Kyouko did not look at him, did not look at his disappointment, and she bowed as low as her spine could stand it. She expected him to stomp off, perhaps to go right to Tokyo then and there.

"Che, quit treating me like the 'Beloved Son.' I want you to refuse me as a friend, not a servant conditioned by my parents." She unsnapped her bow and braced herself to make eye contact. "I can't go with you Shou, but I will pray for your success every day; I won't stop you."

"Good, 'cuz I'm taking a huuuge risk letting anyone know. Don't look at me like that. I'm not booking it now. Be a good girl and don't cry 'cuz you don't need to," he said, slinging his bag and his blazer coolly over his shoulder. The bell rang and only when his footfalls ceased did Kyouko slump to the ground and weep in relief that he didn't hate her.

She made a vow of loyalty then: No matter how much Okami-sama panicked over his disappearance, she knew nothing.

Kyouko made an effort to keep busy in the coming days, buffing her spirits with the stern reminder that Shou was doing a brave thing leaving the luxuries of the Ryokan to chase his dreams in the big city. One day, while she was beating down the futons, she heard loud, thundering steps booming down the wooden corridor. Kyouko tossed down the bamboo rod in fear and hid in the billowing material.

Her ears perked up at the steely tones of Oyaji-dono. "Your disobedient son," he yelled, "has refused to sit down with me and learn his accounting. You spoil him too much, Oku-san! We will lose him to his foolish ideals!"

That moment, Kyouko felt hollow in her chest, as though Shoutaro had already fled. Later that night, after finishing chores and supping with the maids, Kyouko knocked on Shou's door and stepped back as he slid it open marginally. "What are you doing here? Are you going to give me away?" he asked.

She shook her head and clapped her hand over her mouth. The door opened further and Kyouko was summarily pulled into his room. She couldn't help herself; she hugged him tight and swallowed the tears that would displease him. "Shou, I didn't want to part on unfriendly terms. I can't go with you, but I still want to help!" She pulled away and dug for an envelope from her sash.

"Kyouko… are you a drug dealer? How did you get dough like this?" From nearly nine years of spending very little of her New Year's money, there was probably a little bit over 17,000 yen. "You can't give this to me; it's too much."

"I'm your friend," she said, smiling, knowing full well that he normally treated that amount like pocket money. "Try to remember me when you become a rock star. Goodbye Shoutaro."

"Hey, I'll send you CDs and stuff, to pay you back," he insisted, sticking the envelope in his jacket. "Bye Kyouko."

"Thank you!" I love you too much!

True to her vow of loyalty, she left as discreetly as she had come and went about finishing her homework and preparing for bedtime as usual. Kyouko slept barely a wink, imagining every patter on the roof was Shoutaro running away with a guitar and barely a cent to his name like in a movie. He made for such a beautiful rebel that she didn't want to go to sleep and lose that picture in her head.

She went to school and, by herself, faced her own heartbreak and that of the girls at lunchtime. "Hey plain-face! Where's Fuwa-kun?"

"I think he's sick today," Kyouko said, picking at her bento.

"She thinks? She thinks? How can this girl who lives with Fuwa-kun be so stupid not to know what's going on with him? I would take full advantage of that!" declared Fujiko-chan, whose hair cascaded sleekly around her waist. "I guess it can't be helped."

In spite of her classmates' scorn, the beautiful rebel picture stayed in her head and Kyouko made up her mind to work hard through her suffering. "I will work as hard as Shoutaro!"

"Did you hear something, girls?"

"No, just some plain, uninteresting words." They all laughed and flicked their hair.

Kyouko didn't notice; the real fight would happen when she would come home without Shoutaro. She noted the whisper of the maids and the staff, but distanced herself by serving sweets and tea to the fatigued guests in the lavish, ornate lobby.

"Kyouko, did you hear?" one of the maids finally asked her when all the guests were in their rooms.

"What is it Kojiko-san?" Kyouko asked.

"Okami-sama's little brat ran away! She's serving tea to the guests now; I don't know how she does it not knowing where her son is!"

Kyouko was not very good at acting, but she knew her blank reaction to this scandal was out of place. She tried denial: "Shou wouldn't run away like a brat! He probably got into another fight with Oyaji-dono and is hiding somewhere in the Ryokan." Even to her, that sounded weak. "Everything will be alright." She walked away with her head bowed.

Behind her, the maid tsked and muttered," Kyouko-chan, your emotions are all over your face. You may not defend him when you find out you're his throw-away bride!"

An older woman on staff stopped Kyouko in the middle of carrying bedding and nodded her head politely. "Kyouko-chan, Okami-sama wants to see you. Please stop by as soon as possible."

"H- hai! Thank you so much." She bent her knees in a bulky curtsy and hurried to finish up and to hear what Okami-sama would say to her. Kyouko rapped once on the lacquered frame of Okami-sama's door and tried to control her jitters.

"Yes?"

"Okami-sama, Himamura-san told me to find you," Kyouko said.

"Please come in Kyouko. We have not spoken very familiarly lately. Please shut the door all the way." Kyouko followed orders and slid the door gingerly. With her head bowed, she waited for permission.

"Please sit down and have tea with me." Kyouko reached out for the teapot, only to realize that steam rose from her own cup. Respect for Okami-sama came back in full force; that woman really knew everything happening under her roof.

"I was expecting you," Okami-sama said serenely. "Have some fruit."

Kyouko nibbled on an apple slice and answered mechanically when Okami-sama asked about school and clubs, putting Kyouko at ease. Besides a gentle reminder for Kyouko to sit in a proper and relaxed manner, Okami-sama said nothing out of the ordinary. Her hair was arranged elegantly to show off the golden texture of her hair and not a furrowed brow marred her content smile.

Kyouko couldn't take it anymore. "Okami-sama, I've been hearing things about Shoutaro. Is it true?"

"I believe you already know the answer," the wise matron said, pouring more tea for Kyouko.

"So he really is gone," Kyouko stated. Her cup trembled in her hands, but she set it down and cupped her hands in her lap. Even though she knew, it was a terrible feeling to lose him.

"You sound quite certain, and you should be. Shoutaro has indeed fled his responsibilities here and will probably renounce his name when he gets to Tokyo," Okami-sama said.

"How do you know, Okami-sam?" Kyouko asked, wondering if Shoutaro's mother knew about everything outside of her roof, too.

"I know my Shoutaro. We searched his room long after his temper tantrum and his guitar was missing. The only place he could go after here is Tokyo to realize his dreams. My poor boy. The world is large."

"Don't worry, Okami-sama! I gave him money earlier, enough that he can come back if he needs to!" Kyouko blurted, quite forgetting that she knew nothing.

"Were you the last one to see him, Kyouko?" Okami-sama asked mildly.

"No," she answered quickly. "I think I'm not. I don't know the exact time he left." Kyouko shuffled aside from the table and kneeled until her forehead was flat on the tatami. "Please forgive me for my betrayal, Okami-sama. I am unworthy of your generosity that I did not warn you or Oyaji-dono that Shoutaro was serious about running away." She fully expected to be kicked out of the room, out of the inn, and to the ground.

"You are forgiven, Kyouko," Okami-sama said, lifting her gently from the kneeling. "How you spend your money is your own business. I am grateful that you gave my son all your support, but let us keep this detail from my husband, hm? This wouldn't happen if Shoutaro had inherited my temper in addition to my looks."

"Ah, but I did not call you here to discuss my wayward son. I called to ask about you," Okami-sama said with no trace of sarcasm. "You are very devoted to my son, without question. Did he ask you to come with him?"

"Yes," Kyouko said, very surprised, and completely believing in Okami-sama's powers to read minds. Or perhaps Okami-sama was divining from the tea leaves.

"It's a pity," the mother sighed. "He will eat terribly without your cooking; laundry and cleaning will be a disaster for him!"

"Should I have gone with him?" Kyouko asked, fully expecting Okami-sama to send her to Tokyo.

"It would have been better for him than for you, my dear. In any case, you have proven willing to do anything for my son. You have been friends with him the longest and have done only good for him. Does it not behoove you to be left behind?"

Kyouko shook her head vigorously, in spite of the unseemly, unwomanly gesture. "I made my choice just like Shoutaro-kun, Okami-sama."

"An appropriate response," Okami-sama said wistfully," for a servant. I am at a loss on what to do with you, Kyouko. My husband and I had such plans, but now everything has changed. You were supposed to marry Shoutaro and carry on our legacy. We gave you to him, but now he is not here and we have no other son for you to marry."

Kyouko's face turned a great number of pinks before going stark white. "Marriage? With Shoutaro."

"You aren't in love with him?"

"Oh! Yes, of course," Kyouko said because you don't ever lie to Okami-sama. "But to hear you say it makes me very honored to be the chosen waka-okami[3]. I don't deserve it."

"I have groomed you myself," Okami-sama said firmly. "You have all the makings to one day take up the mantle. In time, you would have learned this business inside and out as I do. What I am asking you is if you still wish to be trained."

"I truly don't deserve this," Kyouko protested for a bit," but I have no desire to leave the Ryokan. It has been my home since Okaa-san left me. Would I be able to continue working here and learning everything? Please?"

"Wouldn't you rather wear make-up and go out on dates like your high school friends, Kyouko-chan?" Okami-sama asked.

Kyouko did not bother to correct Okami-sama on the friends thing, but shook her head once more. "I am willing to work myself to the bones!"

Okami-sama laughed a little over Kyouko's exuberance. "No, no, we don't need you to scare away the guests. Very well, I am impressed with your energy. On the condition that you will grow up to be a competent lady of the Ryokan and one day marry my son, I will take you under my wing as my own."

Kyouko was horribly wrong-footed. "I will become more than competent, but how will I marry Shoutaro if he's a rock star?" Kyouko asked.

"I know my son," Okami-sama said grimly. "In a year's time, he will be met with many obstacles. He may give up and come home. If he succeeds, there are only so many years the entertainment industry can use him. One day, Shoutaro will come back to his rightful place. Waka-okami, I ask you to keep your heart open and wait for him and preserve our blood line. Without fail."

"Hai, Okami-sama! I will hurry and grow up! Thank you very much for this honorable opportunity!"

"That sets my heart at ease, Kyouko-chan. Please see that the tea house is prepared for the guests in the first west room; I will be holding ceremony in forty minutes."

"Hai!" Kyouko got up and bowed at every backwards step to the door. She slid it closed gently and her soft footfalls quickly faded.

"What a good girl," sighed Okami-sama, as she dumped the remainder of her cold tea into the pot. "If she's anything like her mother, she'll lose her heart to a tall and dark stranger."


	2. Fate Strikes Twice

A/N: I do not own Skip Beat! Please forgive glaring cultural errors; I'm making it up as I go along.

[1] Nakai: room maid, usually serves several rooms with meals and conversation; tables and chairs in this fiction are low to the floor!

[2] Tanzen and haori: extra layers that overlap the yukata guests are given because of no central heating in Japan

[3] 15:00 in military time is 3:00 PM, for all my European readers? I'll correct this if wrong.

* * *

Fate Strikes Twice

"The weight of this place does not change," Ren Tsuruga said as he got out the car. He inclined his head to his chauffeur who saluted and shut the door.

"No better place to hold down your nerves, right Boss?" the chauffeur exclaimed, waving at the mountainous view flush with various flora. "Enjoy your stay there, huh?" The chauffeur slapped the driver's side and sped down the steep rode.

The pungent fog from the muffler polluted the air briefly; a steady, balmy wind stirred the lapel of Ren Tsuruga's blazer and lifted the strands of hair from his eyes. His eyes were astoundingly sharp in spite of his dashing looks. They immediately saw a woman in a formal kimono and three others picking their way down the steep path.

"Konnichiwa Tsuruga-san. Annoyingly early as always," tutted the Okami of the Ryokan to Tsuruga, although her shining eyes belayed her happiness to receive him on a lovely autumn afternoon.

"Konnichiwa. I apologize for overestimating my arrival time."

"You can make your apologies inside while you wait one whole hour for your room to be readied," the okami said dryly. She cocked her head to one side and one of her assistants rushed forward.

"May I carry your luggage?" Ren handed over his worldly belongings and fell into step behind the okami. She regaled him with news of renovated attractions in Kyoto as she led him to a cozy lounge in the lobby.

"New chairs," Ren said, seating himself carelessly. He bounced off the plush seat one foot in the air.

"Almost completely new," the okami corrected him. "I had them re-upholstered over the summer. They aren't that horrid black anymore. This navy blue works better with the splendid view, no?"

One of the staff walked into the lobby, bearing a modest tray of strong tea and delicate pasties. "Please enjoy your stay here, Tsuruga-san. Perhaps you'll get along with the food you'll meet."

"Thank you for taking care of me," Ren called out. Already, while his eyes adjusted to the well cared for antiquities lining the waiting area, he could feel loose ends in his head untangling themselves. His fingers were too light; they needed the script he was working through.

Ren seriously considered tracking down the man who had taken his duffel bag. Fortunately, another heavenly breeze meandered through the large open windows and blew the stupid idea out of his head. He looked around to see if he could track the direction it originated. Mid-swivel, he caught hints of sweetness in the air, the sweetness of a flower that never died. Where was that irresistible aroma?

He swiveled the opposite way and saw a girl and the employee who registered his name; nothing special. He bit into a pasty, blinked, and bit again. The unexpected tang of the center and the flaky crust engaged his usually apathetic stomach. The tea was lukewarm by now, but loaned the sweet taste wholesomeness. As soon as the last pastry disappeared, a girl in a russet brown kimono approached his table and bowed so low that her layers of her hair draped past her waist.

"Konnichiwa. Welcome to the Fuwa Ryokan. My name is Kyouko Mogami; I am your Nakai [1] in the interim of your stay. I apologize for the delay in preparations and I thank you for your patience. Please follow me."

As she turned, a teasing wind tussled Kyouko's hair, sending waves of a familiar sweetness over him. The aroma was strong enough that he could identify it: strawberries.

Though he stalled, Ren easily caught up to her. She cast a sideways glance at him and abruptly cast her gaze straight ahead. "You picked one of the better times to visit with us, sempai. One of our chefs makes a delicious grilled salmon that smells just like autumn!"

"Really? I have visited here twice already and I've not heard of this."

"I'm sure you will receive this dish for your dinner. The best part about it is you can smell it as long as you like because the flavors peak at room temperature," she described with sincere longing.

'For her young age, she is holding up rather well with my appearance,' Ren thought to himself. Most girls would be babbling themselves silly or puckering like goldfishes.

"We are nearing your room, sempai. There is the rock garden, and this hallway leads to a display room where we showcase our oldest dinnerware dating from before the Meiji Restoration. Your room will be up this hall."

"Please call me Ren," he said, summoning up the radiant smile that was his trademark. "After all, I am going to spend quite a bit of time with you."

He waited for her to fall over or cling to the wall, but Kyouko merely paused in the middle of the corridor to slide open the door. She stepped aside, not meeting his eyes, and gestured for him to go in and enjoy his lodgings already. "Ren-sama, your room awaits!"

Ren removed his shoes and put on the slippers at the entrance of his door. The first thing he did was open the wood framed glass sliding doors in the deluxe space. The sound of rushing water got louder and a crisp bite in the air pervaded the room.

"My, it is rather chilly all of a sudden," Kyouko gushed. "I will fetch you a haori in addition to your tanzen. Please wait patiently!" [2]

She left him to take in the green smell of the new tatami and perhaps to appreciate the way the room framed the brilliant autumn sky, the smoky landscape, and the sparkling waters of the mini-waterfall.

Once she gathered one of the bigger haori to accommodate Ren-sama's height, she hurried to corridors far from the guests and banged repeatedly on a door until it opened.

"Maa, Kyouko-chan, what's with the commotion? Don't you have a handsome man to wait on?" Kojiko-san inquired, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Kyouko leaned on the door frame before Kojiko-san would slam it shut.

"You know my awkwardness with single men! Is this why you called off your last guest for the shift?" Kyouko hissed.

"Hey, it's not just me who thinks you're a little too young to be tied to Hamtaro."

"Don't call him Hamtaro! That's why Shoutaro hates the rest of his proper name, Kojiko-san," Kyouko chided, completely ignoring everything else the maid said.

"Hamtaro is nicer than 'Sho-off-taro' and accurate to boot because he is a ham for attention," Kojiko-san logically explained.

"If you watched TV like the normal people, Kyouko, you would realize that Ren Tsuruga is part of the idol scene in Tokyo. You can get him talking about Hamtaro, and the rest of us won't have to witness you sulk because you haven't heard from the guy in a year."

"He sent in a great CD!" Really, he did. She listened to it while she practiced flower arrangement and pre-Calculus.

"And one poster that almost captures his big head."

"Kojiko-san, however did the Fuwa's tolerate your bad-mouthing?" Kyouko exclaimed.

"Hamtaro's esteemed parents are people of character: They will only ever tolerate the truth. And the truth at hand is that you are rather neglecting your guest because he's a Big Bad Bachelor, don't ya think?"

Kyouko checked the time, squeaked, and sprinted away, the sleeve of the haori trailing feebly behind her. "Heaven help you if he's a flirt!" the maid teased.

Tittering as she returned to her day shows, Kojiko-san said, "People never pay you to give them a good kick."

Her poor guest had removed his blazer, seated himself comfortably on the low, legless chair and had paged through a good portion of his script when she entered the space. Kyouko mentally kicked herself for leaving the door open and then for her failure to knock.

"I apologize once more for the delay," Kyouko murmured. Ren-sama's haori was a neatly folded bundle in one arm and she bore a tray with her other.

"I didn't notice," Ren said, scratching the back of his head. "What's the time, perchance?"

"It is 14:38, Ren-sama," Kyouko said, guiltily calculating her negligence at a little less than 15 minutes, well over the time for tea to cool. This was no behavior for the waka-okami. 'Next time, handle the guest first and _then_ kill Kojiko-san.'

"Considering that I reserved this room at 15:00, there is no delay; I thought my room would take an hour to get to." [3]

"Did Okami-sama tell you to wait a whole hour?" Kyouko asked, puzzled. "Ano, she hates making guests wait no matter whom is responsible…"

"Next time I'll call her bluff for sure." Ren-sama chuckled and flipped his script off the table, signaling Kyouko to set down the tea and bun cakes (she balanced the haori on the armrest of her legless chair).

"You must be very familiar with Okami-sama that she teases you," Kyouko murmured. She bowed to Ren and knelt opposite him. "I am Kyouko," she said, offering her softest smile she usually reserved for the last person to forgive something of her. A sentiment moved in Ren-sama, but it was as slight as the wisps of steam from the tea she served him.

"You must know your way around the Ryokan or maybe Kyoto well enough that it would be presumptuous of me to offer direction."

"All of the above is true, yet I would be grateful for shortcuts," Ren admitted. Her face lit up when he sipped the tea and her little hands danced like sparrows whilst she offered him bun cakes.

"Well, the easiest way to go down is to fall off the mountain," Kyouko joked. He could see more of her pretty teeth. Suddenly feeling experimental, Ren popped an entire cake into his mouth and swallowed.

He surprised a laugh and some clapping from her. "Waah, I haven't managed that on days I'm ravenous. Should I grab you another plate?"

"Mm-mm, mrrm goof," he responded, still swallowing. His stomach was going to punish for impinging on it.

She looked genuinely distressed at the strange grumblings. "Or I should get antacids?"

"No, it's fine," Ren insisted, discreetly loosening his belt to relieve the pressure. "It passes within the hour, give or take quick movements." Give or take the lengths I go to please a woman.

A brilliant idea struck Ren. "The pain dissipates more quickly if I lean on someone and talk with them, but I don't want to take time away from others you're looking after."

The inquisitive sound that she made was very cute, like kittens mewl. He almost missed it. "I'm being trained at the moment; I don't have anyone else," she explained, cocking her head and tapping her chin with her little finger.

Given their height difference, Ren expected to strain half his body to put his head on her shoulder or for her skinny little shoulders to jar his ear with every breath she took, as so often happened with other girls her build. In short, the effort should not have been worth his bold request.

Instead, his cheek met the cool silk of kimono and he was able to relax a good portion of his weight on her. He didn't even bother with the physics of how they were able to accomplish this: They just fit. It was like resting against a pillar of silk. He could've napped easily under these conditions, except that he'd foolishly included talking in his get better conditions. She would breathe and then he'd be sent rolling to the floor in pain.

"What do you like to do the most, Ren-sama?" she asked him.

"I like what I'm doing now the best," Ren said. "That is, what I'm doing in terms of my job which is acting." And not manipulating cute little maids.

"Are you in theatre or on the TV?" Kyouko asked, surprising him until he realized the popularity of the Ryokan—all sorts of artists would gather in the clean air.

"I am on TV," he said. The words sounded foreign to him, as though he had not said it in a long time. "I work under an agency called LME; it's a pop powerhouse."

Kyouko considered the name; she had seen it a couple times in random headlines. Under tabloids. She told Ren-sama such and added, "There is always the same man on the front pages, behaving oddly. Are there any men in your company who would sail a boat in the middle of the street or choreograph Indian rain dances?"

"You must be thinking of Lory Takarada-san, President of LME." Ren deadpanned, thinking 'On vacation, I fail to escape mention of that dangerous fellow.'

"Despite his flamboyant appearances, he is not a man to be trifled with. In fact, I trifled and that is partly why I am here in Kyoto," Ren said, his tongue loosening up like the muscles in his body.

"Eh, trifle? What crime could an actor be guilty of?" Kyouko asked. In anyone else, that question would've been condescending and unwelcome. As it was, Ren wished to put his arms around her and dream of strawberry fields for the fragrance exuding from her.

"Let's just say I bit off more than I could chew with a role that I accepted."

"Oh." She understood perfectly; Okami-sama's reminders and corrections were relentless like the waves in an ocean.

Kyouko couldn't resist asking her next question. "Did you, perhaps, accept a princely role?" She was very glad he couldn't see her beet-red face when he laughed at that.

"I am flattered by that question; Do I look like a prince?" He sat up and unconsciously put his hands on her shoulders so that she could face him head-on.

This was her first real look at him; other times, she had simply made eye contact with his chin. Kyouko was aware that in the past year, she had grown her hair longer and conditioned it to fall beautifully. She was learning how to deepen her eyes with lines and color. She had eaten nutritious diet after nutritious diet recommended for her skin, hair, and figure. All her meager efforts paled in his honest, hopeful features.

"Hai, Ren-sama." It took the entirety of her training to nod slowly and demurely lower her eyes to save what little face she had. "If you had a noble steed and a kingdom, you would be the perfect prince."

Kyouko, in an instant, realized how hollow her voice sounded, and she snapped to attention. "Ren-sama, there is color in your cheeks. You must be recovered. Please allow me to get the bath ready for you. Dinner will be at seven; please have your appetite by then!"

She stood and waited for him to stand as well. He did so, they exchanged stiff bows, and she cheerfully waved herself out of the room.

"What a strange woman," Ren said. He stood staring at the lavishly painted door for a long moment, unsure if he was the stranger. "Did I hurt you?"


	3. A Day in the Life Of

A/N: So...yeah...Hallo!

[1] Intentional.

[2] Nakai-san: room maid.

[3] Skedaddle: old-fashioned term for "get out!"

* * *

A Day in the Life Of

Kyouko was a small town girl with a humble, girlish heart. And boy, was her humble heart outracing her feet!

"Kojiko-SAN, I am not willing to be strung along with your plots anymore!" Attempts to beat down the door would have been more successful if Kyoko wasn't terrified of wrecking the flimsy shoji. Kojiko-san responded by turning up the volume of a popular love show. "Come out this instant or I will tell Okami-sama about your _indiscrepancies._ I am no longer responsible for waiting on Ren-san!"

Kojiko-san's twinkling eye peered out a hole torn out of the door, and winked at a tearful Kyouko. "And in Kyouko-nese, this translates to: 'I think that Scary Man in my room is attracted to me! He told me that he liked the room! Oh noez!!!11" [1]

The pattering of sandaled feet lasted for the good ten minutes that Kyouko chased, threatened, and cornered Kojiko-san. Kojiko-san finally succumbed to the laughs shaking her tiny frame and crossed her arms over her head defensively. "Okay, okay! I will go service your Dark and Handsome Stranger-- Ow! Not with your sandal, Kyouko-chaaaan!"

Kyouko-chan gave her little time to straighten her hair and change into her smart uniform before marching Kojiko-san to Ren Tsuruga's silent room with express orders. "You will kindly set the table and arrange for Tsuruga-san's entertainment. You will address your guest with the utmost respect befitting your station and his. And most importantly, you WILL turn yourself in quietly," Kyouko told Kojiko-san serenely, poking Kojiko-san's shoulder in the manner of jabbing a hostage with a handgun.

"Waah, Kyouko, you treat me like a criminal. At least wait until I put his food down so you don't upset me and the tray!" Under Kyouko's watchful scrutiny, Kojiko-san quietly set the table, arranged the fresh bouquet artfully, and kneeled patiently in the seat reserved for the Nakai [2]. "Really, I have been in this business longer than you have, Kyouko. As your sempai, shouldn't you submit to me?"

"I would if you would stop making waves for me, Kojiko-san," Kyouko chided. A look at her wrist showed the time to be 18:58. In other words, time to skedaddle[3]. "Our guest will be arriving any minute. It'd be worse for you if I was still here when he comes in!"

"Alas, Kyouko-chan is destined to be wasted on scrawny-egotistical-petulant-boy Hamtaro..."

Kyouko rolled her eyes and turned on her heel almost savagely.

"Uwaaah!! What's this? A magazine! And who's on the cover! Why, it's Hamtaro! And what's this about FUWA'S FALL FROM FAME...an interview with up and coming goth sensation Vie Ghoul?!!!" Kyouko heard a loud roar in her ears as her foot almost screeched in mid-air. As she whipped around at Kojiko-san's taunts, she also heard steps gaining speed outside. They were too heavy and spaced apart to be another maid.

"Oh my god, Kojiko-san, put that down! Don't snoop in his stuff!!" _I'm begging you!_

"But it's Hamtaro!" Kojiko-san happily jiggled a blown-up photo of Shoutaro scowling into the camera.

Kyouko's muddled head swung repeatedly between the Kojiko-san's cheesy grin and the door. Desire and Duty warred, and Duty put Desire in a last-second head lock. Kyouko charged the door, overcompensated her speed, and thus was unable to regain the ability to stop as the door slid open.

Her entire face smushed against something that was neither wood nor papering. First off, it was rather damp and second, it grabbed her waist to prevent any further damage to her person (and her person parts). Kyouko back pedaled, and bowed her head, but it was too late to save face.

There stood Tsuruga-san, his wet hair tussled and a sculpted torso showing through a loosely secured yukata. One could see the steam coming off his freshly soaked skin, and the beginnings of teeth marks slightly off-center.

"Nakai-san, are you quite alright?"

This was also the exact second blood trickled out of Kyouko's nose. At least covering her face in shame served a dual purpose of stemming the flow. She had no choice but to bow quickly and walk out, quickly, quietly, wishing to turn into a toad free to hop out of this miserable life.

"Why couldn't I be blinded, too?" Kyouko murmured, allowing the bathroom sink to catch the worst of the blood.

She really hoped that Kojiko-san hadn't seen it, that Tsuruga-san had recovered gracefully, had changed into a modest T-shirt, and preferably suffered permanent memory loss starting from the time the door slid open and the time she got the heck out of there. As to how he would explain the hickey on his chest to his spouse, girlfriend, bed mate, etc., well--

Vaguely, Kyouko heard the thud of her head hitting the sink. Repeatedly.

"Kyouko-chan is rather aloof today, don't you think Baa-chan?" one of the maids whispered to an elder laundry maid as Kyouko hefted countless loads of linen up and down the stairs.

"She does have school tomorrow," the elder said, leisurely spitting out a melon seed shell. "And besides, she is performing all our normal duties at a remarkable pace."

Finally, drained out her mind, and glad to have avoided Kojiko-san (since sweaty, menial labor repelled her), Kyouko packed her bento, washed her face, and fell deeply asleep while reviewing the unit circle and all its tedious identities.

One thing that could be said for school was that it replaced her cottonmouth with an overwhelming bitterness. The concilatory fact that the hazing of last year had calmed down exponentially (after Shoutaro left) was lost in the sea of shoulders that continued to shun her. Freed from the minor distractions of having her desk moved to the roof and her shoes hanging from random ledges, Kyouko's grades picked up. Yet she was no closer to being welcomed in the afternoon clubs, especially nowhere near the archery club; the last worry she needed were all the sharp shooters who admired Shoutaro.

In the 412 days since Shoutaro had taken off into the city lights, she had generated no friends and one annoyance.

To be fair, she had had two candidates for friendship since Shoutaro left, except that one of them was really spying on her to ascertain "how far" Kyouko had gone with Shoutaro. That one had gotten bored and frustrated within a week of forcing her company on Kyouko. Kyouko abruptly tamped down the outrage of having her bedroom searched (thank god she had recovered all of Shoutaro's limited edition tracks). The other almost-friend was actually the decent one, but Kyouko's schedule, bursting with cram school and Bridal Training, could not fit her in.

Thank the gods that Bridal Training, the lessons on how to Run the Ryoukan as titled by Okami-sama, had not been leaked to the girls at her high school.

'Not,' Kyouko smacked herself, 'that I'm ungrateful that the Fuwa's are supporting me through high school and part-time business classes at community college in the future. That's almost half of Shoutaro's College Fund right there.' And her gratitude showed in the respectable marks she received in all of her classes, except English. Stupid English was borderline in spite of extra lessons.

One thing had also not changed about school: She loathed lunch.

"I wonder what Mogami-san whipped up today!" declared Fuusuke, slamming his hands impatiently all over her desk, in a mock anticipatory drum roll for the glittering display of Kyouko's bento.

In answer, Kyouko dropped her bento on his finger tips at an angle where the impact would smart at maximum. "Find another girl to feed you, Fuusuke-san."

"But you used to share with Fuwa-kun with no problems!! And this is the same amount!!!"

Kyouko, deaf to his pleas, popped open her lunch box and began digging in the delicately sauteed meal, every now and then crunching on tender bamboo shoots. Fuusuke's chopsticks oscillated at they circled and dove at her lunch, but she deflected easily with a spare plastic fork.

For once, a girl's voice defended her. "Fuusuke-kun, it's shameful of you to beg for lunches. There's a vending machine across the street if you're so desperate."

"Thank you, Arisa-chan," Kyouko said, smiling a little guiltily. Arisa-chan was the decent one she couldn't make time for, but the other girl just smiled and shot another warning look as Fuusuke-san's hand crept towards the little bowl of fruit.

Before Kyouko could swat his hand, someone's hand gruffly closed around Fuusuke's collar and threw him at a seat diagonal to the one in front of Kyouko's desk.

"Hello Kyou-kun," Kyouko said, snapping her bento closed, to hide the pink dusting her cheeks. The boy she greeted had a burly chest that made his uniform pucker, but the grin he flashed was good-natured.

"Hey Kyouko-kun. Your face is all red, not that it makes you any less prettier." Her tentative smile froze and she averted her face, eyes widening in horror.

"Kyouko and Kyou," said Arisa-chan, lowering her voice. "If Kyouko-chan hadn't shot you down already, Kyou-kun, I would say that your matching names were a sign." She giggled a little to soften the statement for Kyouko, who looked ready to sink under her chair. Kyou-kun shrugged, thus signaling Arisa-chan to turn back to her usual lunch time friends.

Thanks to their combined efforts at friendliness, Kyouko-san was thinking on when she'd turn down Kyou-kun's offer to take her to a concert. And then the snide remarks from her classmates that had followed for weeks.

"Guess he didn't meet her standards."

"She probably had a backstage pass to Fuwa's concert that weekend."

"What a SWELLED head!"

'Yeah, that crap,' Kyouko thought. In all honesty, she probably would have enjoyed herself with Kyou-kun (as friends), but her promise to Okami-sama remained firm in her mind.

"Hey Kyouko-kun... you're really cute and you make the best food. Would you mind rocking out to Spitz? With, um, me?"

"I can't. I'm already promised to someone," she forced herself to say to Kyou-kun, as if saying them slowly would feel less...rejecting.

Besides, she wasn't the most pretty girl in their class. She had dry scalp and oily hair. Her Engrish sucked. She had no close friends. And she felt real bad when it was apparent that he was bummed out no matter how deeply she'd bowed to him.

Never had she needed a girlfriend to confide in because a girlfriend could have told her not to bow and not to smile at him too much after the fact. A girlfriend could have saved her from falling asleep on one wet pillow after another over stupid boys. Kyouko shivered. She almost thought mother, but that had not been true since she was seven.

Though Kyou-kun had not held it against her, she was afraid of him, or rather, the moments when their eyes met and she was conscious that he liked her. How could she explain it to him without deepening bad feelings? 'Sorry, I already have a Prince in mind. And that everyone is right to condemn me because I am holding on to the most perfect person in the world?'

'Oh yeah, by the way, I just recently bit Ren Tsuruga, who is probably famous. He tasted like the oranges and flowers the Ryokan puts in the bath house waters.'

"If you would desist from denting your table--which is school property--with your forehead, Mogami-san, I invite the class to resume the test reviews..."

She sighed inwardly and opened up the lesson books as the instructor's commands cut through the hushed giggling. One thing had not changed at school: She loathed lunch.


End file.
